The Victor's Pearl
by Wolfgilr4ever
Summary: Sequel to the Baker's Daughter
1. Part of Part 1 the spark

_**"PART I "THE SPARK"**_

I laid on my bed tangled in my sheets staring up at the ceiling of my room as sweet ran down my face. Another nightmare had come to assault my dreams. It had been the fifth one this week. And if that wasn't torture enough, whenever I woke up screaming I always woke up alone. My father, brother, and my mother refused to come to live at my new house saying that they need to work at the bakery though we had enough money to buy all the goods in our bakery; but they do visit often. Then there was Peeta . . ., we had little to none ever since we had our homecoming party. How could we when I found out on the train all the words of love that fell from his lips and every kiss we shared we shared, everything wasn't real; they were lies, fake everything. All of it for the stupid cameras, he never truly loved me; he just did it to keep both of us alive. As I remembered his confession on the train on our way back to district twelve, it started to feel like I was drowning in heartache as I started to gasp for air. I had to get out of this place. I got up as quickly as I could and walked to the bathroom, hopping into the shower. I scrubbed as hard as I could hoping all the memories that the Games had caused would wash down the drain like the dirt and filth did from my body. I turned off the hot water before quickly got dressed in a plain teal evergreen shirt and long blue pants. I got the bread I had made last night, got my jacket and gloves on before walking out into the bitter cold as new snow started to fall. I walked across the street to the house which was occupied by the Peeta's and mine former mentor and now somewhat of a friend, Haymitch. When I walked through the door, I was assaulted by the smell of rotten food, dirty laundry, and . . . pine trees?

"…you should've asked Katniss." I heard Peeta said.

"Maybe I should've." Haymitch snarled back. You could easily tell he was having one of his famous hangovers.

"Ask me what?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen.

I went to Haymitch's side and held out my hand for his knife he always slept with. "Asked you to wake me without giving me pneumonia." Haymitch said sarcasm dripping from his words as he passed over his knife.

He handed it over and I doused the knife in the white liquid in one of the bottles on the floor before whipping it on my shirt. I started to cut the bread into slices. Haymitch grabbed a piece and shoved it into his mouth, causing me to lose my appetite.

"Do you want any?" I asked stiffly, looking at Peeta for the first time since I came into the room.

"No, I already ate at the Hob with Gazle." Peeta said stiffly back. I felt my muscles at the mention of Gazle; though there was no surprise there since they obviously favor each other. "Thanks though."

"No problem." I said looking back down at the bread.

I heard Haymitch swallow before he spoke. "Burr. You two have got a lot of warming up to do before show-time."

I had almost forgotten that today was the day of the beginning of our Victors Tour. The Victors Tour takes place six months after the Games, tour would be held to keep memory of the Games fresh in everyone's mind. It starts in district twelve and counts down until we come to our district as the last one. As a rule of thumb, all the districts are supposed to act happy and cheer on the victor, although many of them are very bitter and angry at the loss of loved ones. They start off in the highest numbered district and count down, skipping the victor's district and saving it for last. In each District, they give a speech and attend a dinner. The Capitol throws a huge feast for the victor's district where all the residents must attend. In my opinion Tour was basically one of the many ways the Capitol showed we were powerless against them.

Haymitch, as hung over or drunk he was, he was right. The camera's and the people of Panem would be expecting the two lover birds that won the Games and were completely in love. Not two people who could barely look at each other in the eye along with talking.

"Take a bath Haymitch." Was all Peeta said before he swung out he window and jogged back to his house.

I sighed before turning to Haymitch. "Do you want any help?" I asked.

"I can do it on my own, Catnip." Haymitch said before stumbling his way to the bathroom.

I walked back to my house only to be welcomed by Cinna and my prep team. They were eager to get me ready for the cameras. They were quick with my make up and hair; brushing, styling, and putting light make up on that would hide the dark circles under my eyes. When i was ready, they told me to just walk outside. I did as I was told, walking into the newly falling snow. I had barley made it half way across the road when I felt familiar strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground.

"Peeta put me down." I said in my best giddy girly voice, knowing the cameras were rolling.

Peeta 'slipped' on the ice sending both of us to the ground laughing; me on top of him. I turn around still in Peeta's arms before pressing my lips to his. Even after what Peeta did, I couldn't abandon him, no matter how much it hurt me.

The rest of the day was a blur of getting to the station, saying goodbye to everyone, the train pulling out, the old team, Peeta and me, Effie and Haymitch, Cinna and Portia, Peeta's stylist, dinned on an indescribably delicious meal I didn't remember, and before I know it I'm staring up at my ceiling, to afraid to go to sleep.

Dawn came before sleep did, but just as the sunlight started to make its way into my bedroom I decided I would talk to Peeta about my behavior before sleep finally came for me. Though, in my dream I was chased by the horrifying dead trips, with bloody faces, ripped out throats, and blank unseeing eyes. I was just grateful when I felt Haymitch's hand shacking me awake for lunch. The two of us walked down to lunch in silence. I wasn't in the mood for talking and Haymitch didn't seem so either. When we reached to dining car, everyone was there except Peeta. Oh well, he probably slept in as well.

A little ways into lunch Peeta came in, everyone was talking about how they slept and how they were excited for the Tour. Well it was more like everyone was excited for the Tour except Haymitch, who had an ice-bag on pressed to his head as he slowly ate a muffin, no doubt trying to get rid of his hang over. As everyone talked, I secretly watched as Peeta played with his bowl of broth, seeming lost in thought as he ate a spoonful or two. Peeta didn't join in on the conversation, not saying I didn't much either but I did a little. Everyone noticed as they tried to bring him into the conversation, but he just brushed them off.

At some point the train stopped. It wasn't just for fuel stop they also need some part had to be replaced that would take an hour or so. That sent Effie into a mood. She pulled out her schedule and began to work out how the delay would impact every event for the rest of our lives. All of a sudden Peeta snapped.

"No one cares, Effie!" Peeta barked, making me jump a little.

Everyone stared at Peeta in shock from his outburst. Even Haymitch, who you would think be on his side since Effie drives him insane or he seemed to be just too hung over.

"Well, no one does!" Peeta said in defense before storming out of the dining car.

I watched as tears streamed down Effie's cheeks. _Well, this was going to happen sooner or later._ I thought to myself as I stood up. "I'll go talk to him, Effie." I said before fallowing Peeta.

It took a while but I finally found Peeta sitting against a rock looking out at the horizon. _Deep breaths, deep breaths._ I repeated to myself as I approached him. he must've heard me coming.

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture." Peeta said, in a warning tone.

"I'll try to keep it brief." I said as I took a seat beside him.

"I thought you were Haymitch." He said.

"No, he's still working on that muffin." I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Bad day, huh?"

"It's nothing." Peeta mumbled.

I took a deep breath. "Look, Peeta, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gazle. I was jealous of her before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry." I said feeling a blush creep up on my cheeks.

My apology seemed to surprise him as it took a moment or two for him to respond. "I'm sorry, too." Peeta said.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends." I said as my cheeks heated up even more.

"Okay." Peeta said with a small smile but I could tell something was still bothering him.

"So what's wrong?" I asked as he picked at a clump of weeds. When he didn't answer I sighed somewhat frustrated. "Okay, let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine . . . but I don't know what your favorite color is?"

I watched happily as a smile creped onto his lips. "Green. What's yours?"

"Orange." I said.

"Orange? Like Effie's hair?" Peeta asked, making a funny face.

"A bit more muted." I said with a giggle. "More like . . . a sunset."

"You know, everyone's always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them." Peeta said.

I had almost completely forgotten that I had paintings. Surprisingly years decorating cakes and goodies pays off. "Well, I've got a whole train car full." I raised up and offered him my hand. "Come on."

It felt good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walked back to the train hand in hand. At the door, he seemed to remember something. "I've got to apologize to Effie first."

"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick." I whispered to him.

So when we went back to the dining car, where the others were still at lunch, Peeta gave Effie an apology that I thought was overkill but in her mind probably just manages to compensate for his breach of etiquette. To her credit, Effie accepts graciously. She said it's clear Peeta was under a lot of pressure. And her comments about the necessity of someone attending to the schedule only last about five minutes. Really, I've gotten off easily. When Effie finishes, I led Peeta down a few cars to see my paintings. I don't know what to expected from his reaction.

Some you wouldn't get right away, if you hadn't been with me in the arena yourself. Water dripping through the cracks in the cave Peeta and I shared. The dry pond bed. A pair of hands, my own, digging for roots. Others any viewer would recognize. The golden horn called the Cornucopia. Clove arranging the knives inside her jacket. One of the mutts, unmistakably the blond, green-eyed one meant to be Glimmer, snarling as it makes its way toward us. And Peeta. He was practically everywhere. High up in a tree. Beating a shirt against the stones in the stream. Lying unconscious in a pool of blood. And one no one, not even Peeta, can't place — the way he looked when I was in my blood poison state —emerging from a silver gray mist that matches his eyes exactly.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"I hate them." Peeta said. Ouch well that hurt. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it, back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?"

Well that made me feel somewhat better. "I see them every night." I admitted remembering those horrible nightmares.

"Me, too. Does it help? To paint them out?" Peeta said.

"I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am." I said. "But they haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't." Haymitch doesn't say so, but I'm sure that was why he doesn't like to sleep in the dark or why he always sleeps with a knife.

"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand," I said. "So you really hate them?"

"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really," Peeta said glancing around once more. "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it."

That caused me to laugh. "Later." The train lurched forward, and I could see the land moving past us through the window. "Come on, we're almost to District Eleven. Let's go take a look at it."

We walked down to the last car on the train. There were chairs and couches to sit on, but what's wonderful was that the back windows retract into the ceiling so you're riding outside, in the fresh air, and you could see a wide sweep of the landscape.Huge open fields with herds of dairy cattle grazing in them. So unlike our own heavily wooded home. We slowed slightly and I thought we might be coming in for another stop, when a fence rose up before us. Towering at least thirty-five feet in the air and topped with wicked coils of barbed wire, it made ours back in District 12 look childish. My eyes quickly inspected the base, which was lined with enormous metal plates. Then I saw the watchtowers, placed evenly apart, manned with armed guards, so out of place among the fields of wildflowers around them.

"That's something different." I said.

Now the crops began, stretched out as far as the eye can see. Men, women, and children wearing straw hats to keep off the sun straighten up, turn our way, take a moment to stretch their backs as they watch our train go by. I can see orchards in the distance. Small communities of shacks — by comparison the houses in the Seam are upscale — spring up here and there, but they're all deserted. Every hand must be needed for the harvest. On and on it went. I couldn't believe the size of District 11.

"How many people do you think live here?" I asked.

Peeta shook his head. In school they referred to it as a large district, that's all. No actual figured out the population. But those kids we see on camera waiting for the reaping each year, they can't be but a sampling of the ones who actually live there. What do they do? Have preliminary drawings? Pick the winners ahead of time and make sure they were in the crowd? How exactly did Rue end up on that stage with nothing but the wind offering to take her place? I began to weary of the vastness, the endlessness of this place.

Effie came in , running us through what was going to happen before whisking us away to get ready. Once we where we stopped at the train station and instead of a limo we were put into the back of a truck which seemed to freak Effie out as she continued to complain. When we finally got to the Justice Building we were escorted in side. But right as we get inside it was time.

"Big smiles!" Effie said, and gave us a nudge. Our feet start moving forward.

There was loud applause, but none of the other responses we got in the Capitol, the cheers and whoops and whistles. We walked across the shaded verandah until the roof ran out and we were standing at the top of a big flight of marble stairs in the glaring sun. As my eyes adjusted, I saw the buildings on the square have been hung with banners that helped cover up their neglected state. It waspacked with people, but again, just a fraction of the number who lived there. As usual, a special platform had been constructed at the bottom of the stage for the families of the dead tributes. On Thresh's side, there was only an old woman with a hunched back and a tall, muscular girl I was guessing was his sister.

On Rue's was her parents, whose faces were still fresh with sorrow, her five younger siblings, who resemble her so closely. The slight build and the luminous brown eyes. They formed a flock of small dark birds. The applause died out and the mayor gave the speech in our honor. Two little girls came up with tremendous bouquets of flowers. I did his part of the scripted reply and then I find my lips moving to conclude it. Fortunately my mother and Prim had drilled me so I could do it in my sleep.

I had my personal comments written on a card, but I didn't pull it out. Instead I spoke about Thresh and Rue making it to the final eight, about how they both kept me alive—thereby keeping him alive—and about how it was a debt we could never repay. And then I hesitated before adding something that wasn't written on the card. Maybe because I knew Effie might make me remove it.

"It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks we'd like for each of the tributes' families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives." I said.

The crowd was silent for a while before breaking out into applause. I step back and just as the mayor was coming up to wrap up the ceremony, Peeta stumbled forward.

"Wait!" Peeta said. "Wait, please. I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven. I only ever spoke to Thresh one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn't know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone's terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I respected him for that."

For the first time the old hunched woman — was she Thresh's grandmother? — raised her head and the trace of a smile played on her lips. The crowd had fallen silent now, so silent that I wondered how they manage it. They must all be holding their breath.

Peeta turned to Rue's family. "But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim." Peeta's voice shook and was barely audible but he finished. "Thank you for your children." I raise my chin to address the crowd. "And thank you all for the bread."

There was a long pause. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, someone whistles a four-note mocking-jay tune. The one that Peeta taught me in the Games, the one that meant safety in the arena. By the end of the tune, I had found the whistler, a wizened old man in a faded red shirt and overalls. His eyes were trained on Peeta. What happens next was not an accident. It was too well executed to be spontaneous, because it happens in complete unison. Every person in the crowd presses the three middle fingers of their left hand against their lips and extends them to Peeta. It's our sign from District 12, the last good-bye Peeta gave Rue in the arena.

The mayor started to take over. Peeta and I acknowledge a final round of applause. He leads me back toward the doors, seeming anxious and nervous. Peeta looked slightly green and had to stop for a moment.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Just dizzy. The sun was so bright." Peeta said then looked at my bouquet. "I forgot my flowers."

"I'll get them." I said said.

"I can." I answered.

We would be safe inside the Justice Building by now, if I hadn't stopped, if I hadn't left my flowers. Instead, from the deep shade of the verandah, we saw the whole thing. A pair of Peacekeepers as they dragged the old man who whistled to the top of the steps, forced him to his knees before the crowd, and put a bullet through his head.


	2. MUST READ!

Hello Readers,

I just wanna say that each day I'm going to be reposting part 1 because I'll be doing a chapter a day. Much less stressful and all that good stuff so thanks. But I'm not sure anymore cause I'm having a batmitzva, if any of you guys are Jewish or have Jewish friends then you'll know what I mean or just look it up, and it's coming around the corner as in August 11th! I'm freaking out so I may not be able to write/update a story until it passes but if I find time and I'm in a good/writer mood, I hate/refuse to write when I'm in any type of bad mood cuz then the story sucks(S/N: this story may suck because for some reason I'm horrible at writing the middle of something. Take the Baker's Daughter for example, I was okay with the beginning, bad in the middle, but, and this is in my opinion, the ending kICked A$$!(aren't I so modest XD) anyway that's probably how this series will go as well cause first book was okay, this isn't going to be good(my opinion) third book, and I promise if the second book really sucks like sucks a$$, the third book will be BOSS STORY! (S/N: TEAM STARKID(look them up and watch them on youtube if you haven't already) So Yeah thanks guys and I promise once everything's back to normal I'll update. I'm hoping to finish this story by . . . um . . . well at least by new years day.

Thanks so much. :D


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